


with care and attention

by readythefanons



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, cock riding, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: Byleth was not an amazing kisser—she didn’t take his breath away or do obscene things with her tongue—but she was competent, and she kissed Yuri exactly the way he wanted to be kissed. She filed away his likes and dislikes forthisin the same way she’d learned everyone’s hobbies and favorite blends of tea.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	with care and attention

**Author's Note:**

> I was like "I'm going to write a sweet, fluffy idfic with Yuri and Byleth!" and then I wrote this and I was like "this wasn't exactly what I thought I was going to write, but okay!" Suffice to say that this fic is not as light as I'd envisioned going in? I think it's... still kind of fluffy, tbh, but Yuri has, uh, an unspecified history of trauma and it's his POV. I'd like to think that I wrote a decently competent and compelling depiction of two characters enjoying themselves and each other in spite of their issues, but I'd feel remiss if I didn't give a heads-up.
> 
> Anyway, if you want even more deets, here's some **content notes:** Yuri has issues with his body and sexual desire (not internalized homophobia, but his own sexdrive makes him uncomfortable) and has also internalized some pretty nasty things about sex workers and that's reflected in his language. The scene on the page is consensual and occurs in the context of a trusting, loving relationship. 
> 
> Oh, and Byleth uses she/her pronouns and has breasts and a penis, I think I use the word cock. oKAY, on to the show!

They were making out on the floor of the training yard. It was stupid and embarrassing—or at least, it would have been, if he’d let himself think about it—but it was also, as it turned out, pretty fun. Byleth was not an amazing kisser—she didn’t take his breath away or do obscene things with her tongue—but she was competent, and she kissed Yuri exactly the way he wanted to be kissed. She filed away his likes and dislikes for _this_ in the same way she’d learned everyone’s hobbies and favorite blends of tea. It fed a comfortable warmth in his chest, one that made him feel like his lungs were working _too_ well, like he was getting too much air.

Byleth rubbed their noses together, kissed him sweetly. They’d started out on their sides facing each other, but he was gradually rolling onto his back, and she was following just as slowly. They’d kissed—hell, they’d had _sex_ already—but they hadn’t done it exactly like this. Yuri, as a general rule, did not like being pinned or restrained. But Yuri was inviting her to lean on him, testing the feeling of her weight on top of him. It gave him a thrill all out of proportion with what they were doing, like they were doing something illicit and dangerous instead of necking on the ground like a pair of idiots. The sun was shining, the sky was clear with just a few harmless clouds scudding along, and a breeze freshened the air. 

Yuri tugged at her, and she moved obligingly. Now he was flat on his back with his legs slightly parted. She had one leg slotted between his own and was carefully giving him some, but not all, of her weight. She kissed him gently, and he tugged her hair until she deepened the kiss. Oh, that was—it sent a thrill through his body, and he felt it shiver deep in his chest, hidden away. And riding the thrill was an edge of—danger, again, but it was just the faintest suggestion, and he held it away from the comfortable warmth he was feeling. 

She went back to kissing him gently, which was a little annoying but mostly made feel like he was going to melt with affection. He’d never said anything about the way sex, for him, meant negotiating a line between too much and not enough, with something akin to animal panic on one side and staticky frustration on the other—but he was pretty sure she knew, or at least suspected. She was very observant and treated him with the utmost care. It should have pricked him right in his pride—Yuri Leclerc did _not_ need to be coddled—but instead it made him feel, well, cared for. He avoided analyzing the feeling.

Case in point, he tilted his head up to offer her his neck. She made a soft noise and began pressing kisses along the soft skin. Yuri kept his eyes open, watched the clouds sail across the sky, and resolutely did not make a noise. He’d had partners who wanted him to make the kind of animal noises that they did, but he preferred to stay quiet for this kind of activity. If he was inclined to make noises, he’d probably be panting right about now, aching with vulnerability and swamped with affection as Byleth kissed along his sensitive skin. Goddess, she was lovely. She made all the noises that he didn’t, expressive but undemanding. Her warmth pressed him, and he savored the way she felt under his hands, soft fat over hard muscle.

She kissed a particularly sensitive spot under his jaw, and he _did_ gasp—a nearly silent thing—and shoved at her shoulder. She rolled off him instantly—good grief, she couldn’t have moved any faster if he were an enemy combatant—and he curled on his side like some kind of pathetic little shrimp. Fuck. When she’d kissed him just now, it was like she’d formed a direct connection to some horny, bestial part of him. _Goddess_ , he wanted—He was literally shaking, his body begging for more, and he curled tight on himself and forced himself to breathe until the urge to either smush his body against Byleth or run away as quickly as possible passed. Fuck. His body was ready—too ready—and his mind was a shambles. Fuck. 

“Yuri?” Byleth said softly from—whatever distance away she’d gone. He shook his head. “Okay. I’m here,” she said, and fell silent again. His breathing started to come more naturally. He wasn’t ready to uncurl completely, but he held a hand up. She took it, and he tugged until she came close enough to tuck herself around him. That was better. She was silent as she held him. When the—whatever was happening—had passed, he uncurled, shifted until he was lying on his back in the crescent of her body. He inspected her expression. She was concerned and trying not to show it.

“Oops,” he said. Her carefully-held not-expression softened slightly.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, trying not to sigh. He just wanted to make out with this ridiculous, wonderful woman without his hangups getting in the way, was that too much to ask? “Want to move this to a bed?” 

“Okay.” She somehow scooped him up, rolled to her feet, and stood with him in what was essentially a princess carry. Ridiculous. He snorted, smacked harmlessly at her shoulder. 

“Put me down, this is undignified,” he said. She smiled—the curve of the lips large enough for even an unobservant moron to recognize it, which was _beaming_ with happiness from her—and kissed the tip of his nose. Before he could repeat his complaint about indignity, she put him down on his feet.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He grabbed her hand and took off running. She laughed, ran right along behind him. They were too old and had too many responsibilities to be running hand-in-hand to find a place to make out, and yet. 

By the Goddess’s grace, they made it back to her room without running into anyone else. If they were anyone else, they’d probably be giggling. As it was, Yuri could feel himself grinning, breathing elevated from the run. Byleth still had that smile on her face when she crowded him against her door, nosed at his cheek. Her hair tickled. They let themselves in, closed the door, tumbled onto the bed.

The training yard was nice, with its open air and light breeze, but it was hard to beat making out on an actual bed. They shed their boots and armor, chucking them in the general direction of the door. Byleth tackled Yuri gently to the bed, kissed his eyelids and nose before he flipped them with an amused huff. She settled against the pillows instantly, blinking up at him with that smile still on her face. Oh, he had it bad for her. He set his hands on either side of her face, kissed her thoroughly. Her hand settled on his waist, not tugging or holding him down, just holding _him_. He could have sighed with happiness. The warm feeling in his chest was blooming, spreading through his whole body.

The hungry, carnal feeling was back too, but ineffably more bearable now. He shifted until he was straddling her lap. She settled under him the way he liked, her legs slightly bent, and stroked her hands up his sides and back down to his waist.

He kissed her, let her touch and her noises stoke the hunger in him. Sex could be simple, and feelings could be straightforward, and Yuri was too busy trying to get laid to wonder why _sex with feelings_ somehow tangled together and got complicated. Fuck it, he could figure it out later. Byleth was making short, humming sounds now, and her cock was hard under him. Yes, good, they were getting somewhere.

“Lube, now,” he directed. It was possible that he was, at this point, a little breathless, but Yuri Lelerc didn’t pant like some backalley tart. Byleth nodded, twisted, and reached for the bottle she kept by the bed. The motion made her shift under him, and Yuri let himself enjoy the feeling of her pelvis rocking up against him just a little bit. He usually didn’t like that, but—there there were exceptions to every rule, especially as far as gross biology was concerned. Case in point: the cock he was admiring right this second, to say nothing of his own, finicky, anatomy. 

He kissed her when she turned back, still a little breathless, just a shade more assertive than he’d been before. She was warm and alive, at once soft and hard, strong and gentle. His own body, for its part, was warm and almost alarmingly alive, with its own hungers and moods. He knew how to coax it and cajole it, when he could push its limits and even, sometimes, indulge it. Byleth kissed him, humming in pleasure, and held him close for the simple pleasure of closeness. One hand rested on his waist and the other stroked up and down his back. She kissed his neck, impossibly soft and impossibly gentle, and Yuri felt—loved. 

“Pants,” he commanded, levering himself off her just enough to shed his own leggings. She did a twist-and-wiggle routine that made him almost miss being in her lap and ended with her shorts and tights somewhere on the floor. Her shirt joined them, but her breastband stayed on. Yuri preferred to remain as clothed as possible for this sort of thing anyway, so it would be the height of hypocrisy to wonder why she happily shed every article of clothing except her breastband.

He settled back on top of her, briefly buried his face against her neck at the feel of all that skin. She kissed his ear, the absurd woman. He kissed the tops of her breasts, which drew a near-silent laugh from her. She had, objectively speaking, a magnificent rack, but she seemed personally ambivalent towards it so Yuri tried not to spend too much time lingering over it. He hated it when his former lovers had lavished attention on parts that he had a more neutral relationship to. 

She was kissing the top of his head now. That was just too much ridiculousness. He leaned up, kissed her on the mouth. She settled her hands on his waist again—over his tunic—and tugged him ever-so-gently. He acquiesced to her request, settled closer against her. All that skin on skin—it was really something. He rocked against her, felt her hard cock leak against the inside of his thigh. Well alright then.

He grabbed the lube from where it had rolled on the bed and applied it to his own body. She kept her eyes politely—okay, fine, _adoringly_ , Yuri felt hot and shivery and, and shy to even admit it in his head—fixed on his face. He worked his fingers into his body—he didn’t like this part, but it was necessary—and watched her right back. Her lips were moving. Her voice was inaudible, but he could read her lips, all kinds of nonsense like _I love you_ and _you’re amazing_ and _gorgeous, too gorgeous_. Goddess, he—he was ready, he had to be, he was tired of waiting, he wanted—

“I love you,” Byleth breathed, just barely audible. Yuri bowed his body, kissed her hard. He wrapped his slick hand around her cock, swallowed her thready moan. He loved the noises she made, loved how sincere and unpracticed they were, loved the plain honesty of her body and her reactions. He kissed her more deeply, felt her cock jump in his hand. Goddess, his body was so hungry for her, it would overwhelm him if he let it. Instead he smoothed his hand down her cock one more time, held it at the base, lowered himself onto it.

 _Goddess—it_ —he went slowly, he had to. She was—objectively, her cock was a normal size, but Yuri’s body never seemed to remember what this was like, at first. He kept his eyes shut, kept his face pressed into the space between her neck and shoulder, and breathed through it. Goddess, she was—the way it felt to stretch around her defied simple categorizations like good or bad. He wanted to slam himself down on her, impale himself on her; he wanted her to grip his hips and fuck up into him, open him roughly; he wanted her to spoon him, whisper gentle nonsense into his ear. Instead, he breathed, and she waited, hands on his waist, holding him lightly. When the— _whatever_ , passed, he pressed their foreheads together, eyes still closed.

“Love you,” she breathed. “Easy, now.” That made him blink his eyes open, smile faintly.

“You telling me what to do?”

“No, sir.” She blinked up at him, meek and innocent as she never was—probably had never been, with her upbringing. He huffed a laugh at her. She was ridiculous.

“Don’t move.” 

“No, sir,” she repeated, doe-eyes gone and a thread of warm amusement tugging the corner of her mouth. He kissed her, started to move. He lifted himself up, eased himself down, repeated the process. It was a paradoxical tease. On the downstroke, he was opening himself up on her, body adjusting to the intrusion. On the upstroke, he felt queerly empty, body already hungry for more. In other words, it was the perfect balance, dancing on the very edge between _too much_ and _not enough._

Byleth was—very patient. As much as Yuri was teasing himself, he knew it had to be almost unbearable for her. But she stayed perfectly still for him, hips not moving so much as a fraction. Her hands stayed light on his waist, and her chest heaved as she breathed. She made such sweet noises, too, hungry and helpless and appreciative as he worked himself on her cock. She made enough noises for the both of them, not loud, but continuous. It was dizzying, evidence of her desire for him, but—harmless. It stoked his own desire, if he was honest, but it didn’t push him to go faster, to be ready, to give more the way the movement of her hips or the grip of her hands might. She was rock-steady, moaning like a helpless virgin, and her eyes were hot and gentle. Yuri worked himself on her cock, let himself get a little lost in her gaze and her voice. Just a little.

“Good,” he said at last. He was sitting in her lap again, taking her to the root. He felt impossibly good, like having her inside him made it easier to breathe somehow. His body was hot, now, but almost quiescent, its hunger temporarily sated. “Relax.” She moved her legs, just changing position, still not thrusting, and Yuri let his eyes sink to half-mast as she shifted inside him. Goddess, that his body could feel so good. She petted his side, reached up to cup his cheek. He shifted forward, settled his face against her hand. She looked at him like he was something wonderful, like he hung the moon and stars for her. When she looked at him like that, he felt like the moon: luminous, impossible, beautiful. 

Saints’ bones, her cock made him want to start spouting really bad poetry. That simply wouldn’t do.

Yuri took a deep breath, braced himself against the bed, and started to ride her in earnest. Byleth’s hands fell away from him in favor of twisting tightly in the bedclothes. Her neck arched. Her bosom, he noted with approval, heaved as she moaned. Goddess, if anyone was around, it would sound like he was fucking her brains out when, in fact, he was fucking his own damn brains out.

“Love you, love you, love you,” she groaned. “Sweetheart, oh, you feel so good, _ohhh_.” Yeah, Yuri’s brain was melting. True to form, Byleth’s face was relatively still, but the arch of her neck, the tension in her hands, even the cadence of her breathing were so expressive it almost hurt to watch. “So good, so good, _oh_ , I love you, I love you—” she panted. _Oh_ , she was trembling under him, little twitches as she fought against her own body’s desire to move.

The first couple of times they’d done this, those little twitches had made Yuri wary. Now, though, he welcomed it. Watching her self-control win out over her body’s animal desire to move was—oddly affecting. He kept working himself on her cock, his own body shivering deep inside. She—oh, she found one of his hands with her own, interlaced their fingers. He bit his lip, breathed hard and even through his nose. She moaned sweetly, and he wasn’t sure if she was just—emotional, or something, or if she’d felt the way he’d—reacted, just now. It was possible that he, himself was somewhat emotional at this juncture. Goddess, she was—she was trembling, almost shaking with desire for him, but all her strength and force were directed inward, towards controlling her own body. She wanted him, but she was—she was doing such a good job at holding still for him. Her hand in his, her voice choking on his name, and her hips were not moving a damn inch. He felt—loved, he felt loved. His body was hot and hungry, and if she fucked up into him now it wouldn’t hurt, it would, would feel good, honestly, but he’d told her not to move and so she was moaning like a broken whore and keeping still for him.

“Love—love you,” Yuri managed, and his voice was not quite even but that was okay because she would never—she loved him, and even with his body fluttering and tightening around her, she was fighting to stay still for him. 

“Love you, I love you, oh, _darling_ —” she panted. He leaned forward, refrained from gasping at the change in angle, and guided her hand to his hip. It was absurd that even that amount of added skin-to-skin contact made him need to bite his lip, but there it was. She got the hint and put her other hand on his hip, slipping it under the hem of his tunic like the first one. With both her hands on him, and her voice in his ear, he drove his hips against hers, fucking himself hard and fast and trying not to get too lost in the feel of her cock and the sound of her voice.

His breath got shallower and shallower as his body drew tighter, and he held his breath as he came. No sound could escape him if no air was passing through his throat. Byleth’s voice _cracked_ as he came, and her arms wrapped around his back as he drew in another full breath.

“Good? Good? Love, are you—” she was asking, breathless herself, still shaking.

“Move,” he grunted, and buried his face in the soft skin of her neck. “Come on.”

“I—yeah?” she said. Her trembling had redoubled. It made Yuri’s body feel hot and hungry, like his blood was about to boil.

“ _Move_ ,” he repeated shortly. She whined, set her hands back on his waist. The first hitch of her hips hit him all out of proportion, and he bit his lip _hard_ to keep from making a sound. _Goddess_ , it was good. He tried to spread his knees further, hold himself so she could fuck him deeper. 

“ _Ah_ , sweet, sweetheart? Okay? Okay?” she was panting. Right, yeah, last time they tried this she wanted—she’d _begged_ him to keep telling her if it was good, when she hadn’t asked him for anything else. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, yes,” he kept repeating. His voice was low, terse, controlled. It was utterly at odds with how she was making him feel, all desperate, animal need and impossible hunger. “Just like that, don’t change it, just—like that. Yes,” he instructed. She was thrusting so shallowly, the motion impossibly controlled. She didn’t complain, just held him tighter and obeyed. 

“I love you, I love you,” she was panting. He knew. He felt the way she sounded, overwhelmed and wanting and in love. He didn’t know how she could sound like that and still seem so—wonderful, valuable, instead of cheap and dirty.

“Yes,” he said instead, “Good, yes, yes, like that.” She babbled nonsense into his ear, all sorts of things like _I love you_ and _you’re perfect_ and _good, so good, you’re so good_. He did what he could, kept telling her yes, told her when to give him more and when to slow down.

“More,” he said tersely, “ _Faster_.” She was slowing down, faltering. What, _why_ —

“Sorry, sorry,” she whimpered, slowing down even more. “I’m a little, I’m close. I don’t want to hurt you.” Yuri was so turned on, he was fairly certain she _couldn’t_ hurt him right now. She could smack him across the face and he’d probably just come. His brain was drowning in arousal, unable to properly parse sensory input. There was no way she was going to hurt him. Oh, and there was no way he’d ever be able to articulate as much to her, even if he wanted to.

“Please,” he said instead. “Don’t stop, I— _please_.”

“Cethelann, Indech, Macuil, and Cichol,” she swore. “Okay, okay, I—if it, if you, tell me if it’s too much.” 

“I will,” he groaned. “Now move.” She moved. True to her worries, she fucked him harder than she probably meant to, but true to his prediction, he _loved_ it. He bit his lip, hard, to keep from embarrassing himself, but she whimpered and whined and he remembered—“Yes,” he said, softly, strained. “Yes, yes, yes.” He focused on how she felt instead of how he probably sounded. _Goddess_.

“I’m, I’m so close,” she choked.

“Don’t care,” he managed. “Just keep—don’t stop, I don’t care, I really don’t.” She made a breathless noise, hugged him tight. He bit her to stop himself from whining. “C’mon, c’mon.” 

“I’m coming,” she warned. Yuri—didn’t need her to say that, honestly, he could _tell_. She was so deep inside him, and she was holding him so tight, and she made a raw noise that seemed to punch right through him. He came shortly after, still wrapped in her arms and wondered briefly if he was going to pass out from holding his breath for too long. 

He lay dazedly as she pulled out of him and cleaned him up as best she could with what she could reach without leaving the bed—an old nightshirt, gross. She tugged him into his preferred post-coital cuddling position and kissed his hair, his ear, the side of his face. Silliness. He tucked his head under her chin. She was so warm, and his body was heavy with satisfaction. His brain was swimming in it too, and he basked in how safe and loved she made him feel. She was petting his hair and sighing happily, which was silly, and it just made him want to press closer to her.

He must have dozed off, but it couldn’t have been long. The light through the shutters was almost unchanged, and he was barely sticky and disgusting. Byleth was staring at his face, which might have been unsettling if he wasn’t still enjoying the afterglow. 

“Bath?” she offered.

“In a minute,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her, tugged until he was lying on his back and she was pressing him into the bed. This time she carefully settled her full weight on him, and he allowed himself to sigh in contentment. He tilted his head back, offered his throat. She kissed along his neck, bit him ever-so-gently. Lazy satisfaction curled through him, and he petted her head. When she’d apparently had her fill, she settled back on top of him. In a minute, they’d have to get up, find their pants, and get cleaned up. Later, they had meeting, trainings, strategy meetings, and morale-boosting meals to make. But for now, they let the minutes spool away, silent and light.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I really struggled to figure out what tags to put, and I also really struggled to figure out what to put in the content note at the top. If you have suggestions for improvement, please LMK, for realz. >_< Can I tag it fluff? I rlly wanna tag something fluff today '__'
> 
> Also, just... In this fic, Yuri is really, really into the fact that Byleth cares about him and doesn't do things he doesn't want, but in real life, that should be the baseline. It's a big deal to him *in the fic* because he's been harmed in the past. You deserve a partner (or partners, I'm a rando on the internet and not here to judge) who respects your boundaries and cares about your physical, emotional, and mental comfort. And a person's boundaries are not all-or-nothing. Just because you agreed to sloppy makeouts doesn't mean you agreed to groping/oral sex/whatever, and just because you said 'yes' to something yesterday doesn't mean your partner should assume it's a 'yes' forever onwards. In fact, just because you said 'yes' five minutes ago doesn't mean anyone gets to disregard you if you say 'no' now. Consent is not just sexy as hell (although it is! Very, very sexy), it's also the baseline, and don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise.
> 
> Ahem, it appears that I accidentally wrote a dubiously-coherent paragraph. @///@ I SWEAR when I wrote this I was planning on it being light and cute, and when I decided to post it I thought it was gonna be easy and breezy. Welp.
> 
> If... if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a comment?


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